Donc Proche
by it'scurtainsforyou
Summary: Part two to 'The Cards We Are Dealt'. Remy and Lorraine manage to escape, but how does life after Stryker's lab turn out for them?
1. Chapter 1

_**So Close**_

{1.0}

They ran like hell.

Or rather, she ran like hell, and he tried not killing everyone within a mile radius. Bullets and cards were flying all over the place. Blood bathed their escape route. The mutants still locked in cells watched in amazement at the two. They'd never thought that they would be able to do it, that she would live to see her twenties. Everyone in the mutant prison room knew that she was sick. It was hard to miss a girl coughing up blood. They watched in awe as she seemed to glow as she whirled past and around guards, dodging bullets like they were going in slow motion. Remy, the ever famous Gambit, blasted cards all over the place, keeping a forcefeild up around her. Not that she needed it.

Not since he gave her that injection.

It had been risky, to say at the least. He had practically ripped his arm open to get to the injected chip inside his arm. He kept it in his cell. It was also a tracker. Lorraine had done the same, but Remy had to help. He was never good around blood, especially considering what was in hers. He tried to be careful, but ended up getting some in his own wound. She had freaked out, naturally; apologized a hundred times and cried the whole night even though Remy had held her hand and told her it was no big deal, that he could fix it just like he was going to fix her. She didn't believe him, at least not until he showed up in his cell after going to Stryker's lab with two vials and a syringe.

He injected himself first. He didn't want to mess up, not on her. The injection was only slightly painful compaired to what Remy had felt in his life, but the DNA forming in his system was far from comfortable. He injected Lorraine quickly. He knew that a bunch of kids were watching, but he also knew that none of them would rat on him. It was an unspoken rule in the mutant prison. Protect your people.

It took a day for the DNA to settle. Lorraine's transformation was far more painful than his own, probably because the healing factor was curing the sickness(es). She coughed up more blood that night than she ever had, but the next morning, she was practically glowing with health. Her sallow skin lost its dullness, and she was alert as ever. Remy smirked. It had worked. His crazy idea had worked.

He was so happy that he almost, almost cried. But men don't cry, so it didn't happen.

It was four, in the morning or day he didn't know, when he used a card to unlock the doors. They snuck out, and managed to make it halfway before anyone realized that two prisoners escaped. Then, of course, the soliders came, along with guns and all sorts of ways to try and stop them. But they weren't fast enough to catch them.

Lorraine bolted up the stairs, kicked the doors down, ran like hell past a nuclear power plant. Remy watched in absolute amazement as bullets traveled at the same speed he was. It was just floating in the air to him. Normally he wouldn't even be able to see one.

"Has anyone ever told y'all that you've got one of the most kick-ass mutations on planet earth?" Remy shouted at her. She laughed.

"Johny told me once," she said, a sad amusement to her eyes. Remy frowned. He hadn't meant to bring up sad memories.

"Desole."

"Don't be."


	2. Chapter 2

_**So Close**_

{1.1}

She had made it. Through bullets, carrying Remy, punching mutants ten times stronger than herself, and three miles of water, she'd run through it all unscathed. When she crashed on the beach, gasping for air, she laughed. She was alive. Her cancer at bay, her AIDS diminished. She was alive adn breathing. She'd been shot but she had barely bled. The bullet had been pushed from her back within in seconds. She put her fingers through the hole in Logan's sweater, through her wife beater's tear, and found no sign of a scar. She twisted around, looked at the small of her back herself. Nothing. Not even a scratch. Amazing.

Her fingers dashed to her shoulder blades, to where Logan's brother had drawn blood. There were no dips in her skin, no feeling of scars. Even the scars she had before were gone. Not a trace of Victor's attack was left behind.

Absolutely amazing.

"Ca va, chere?" Remy asked. It was only then did she realize that Remy had been flung from her back when she stopped abruptly, his face shoved into the sand. His body had managed to skid in the sand, a track of sorts leading up to his final crash site. She scrambled through the sand to him.

"Oh my God, Remy, are you okay?" she gapsed, started checking him for bullet holes, scratches, anything that might have hurt him. Remy chuckled, pushing himself out of the sand with his arms. He shook his head, sending his brown curls flying, along with the sand that was in them. He wiped the sand from his face and grinned at her. She repeated her question. "Are you okay?"

"Moi? I'm fine," he laughed. "Why wouldn't I be, chere? We both got the same junk in our viens now. We're damn near invincible!" he shouted, then looked at her. Took her face in his hands. "That was absolutely incredible, Lorraine."

"Just running," she said, blushing. Now that they were out of their cages, she realized, he could touch her as often and as much as he wanted to. There were no bars holding him back. She'd hated the bars while she was in prison, but now they seemed like they protected her. She felt oddily naked without them, her sense of safety gone.

He laughed again, shaking his head. His laughter was like chocolate: rich, deep, comforting. It didn't settle her nerves though, the ones that screamed that she wasn't safe here. She didn't know if it was the prison that made her mind work like that or the new DNA in her system, or maybe the look in Remy's eyes, the look that said he was still high from the rush of fighting. But he was smiling at her, hands cupping her face. She couldn't remember him ever smiling like he was at that moment.

"We're alive thanks to you," he said seriously, looking her dead in the eyes. He held her head steady when she tried to shake her head, to deny it. It almost made him angry that she refused to believe it, her forest-colored eyes wide and bright like she was a deer caught in headlights as she stared into his. Her expression, however somewhat frustrating, was adorable. It made him want to kiss her so badly, but he couldn't-

Wait, why couldn't he? Remy's eyes widened. He was out of his cage, free of any blocks from her. His eyes lit up like Christmas decor, and then started to simmer. It was a dangerous look, Lorraine knew. It was a look that Johny used to get right before he used to kiss her.

Right as she started to warn herself that all men were generally the same, right as she was figuring out that that look meant the same thing on every man and that she should pull away, right as the feelings of fear and not being safe started getting the best of her, Remy's lips covered her own.

And then she remembered why she hated prison bars.


	3. Chapter 3

_**So Close**_

{1.2}

Unlike Lorraine, Remy had connections, and a lot of them at that. Once Remy was done kissing the breath out of her, they'd walked down the beach for miles, probably ten, until they finally saw some houses and hotels.

"Stay here, chere," he told her, pushing her into a surgf shop. By the looks of the beach and what the shop contained, she was somewhere north and cold, probably the east coast, maybe New York. She looked at Remy questioningly. He sighed. "Relax, okay? I just figured out where we are. I know the shop owner. Long story," he explained. Lorraine nodded.

"Okay. I'll stick around here. Where are you going?" she asked. He grinned.

"Just to make a couple of calls on the pay phone out there. Grab some clean clothes while you're in here."

"Offering her free clothes without tellin' me, Remy?" a rotund man shouted, coming down the well concealed stairs on the side of the wall where bathing suits hung. "You still owe me money from back in '79!"

"I'm workin' on that money, homme. Just got outta prison, give a homme a break!" Remy insisted, flashing the man a grin before looking at her. "Abel's gonna take good care of you, so you stay put, tu ecoutes?"

"Okay," she said, looking to the floor. She felt like a criminal, waiting around with a man she only knew because he had some sort of connection with Remy. She didn't like waiting around, she was a runner, after all. She didn't feel safe anywhere now, it seemed to be a curse when she was around Remy and his odd connections. She wouldn't be surprised if he managed to pull a private jet out of the sky to pick them up at random. He frowned at her.

"You behave, chere," he ordered, walking out the door. "Get some summer clothes. We're headin' down to New Orleans."

"Right," she said. Remy's frowned deepened, but he said nothing. It was unusual for Lorraine to be so... anti-social, if he could call it that. But he let it slide. He guessed that she just felt odd, maybe out of place, without being a prisoner. After all, she'd been there for so much longer than he had. He ducked out side, the bells hanging from the door making no sound as he left. She watched him walk briskly down the sidewalk, weaving between the people who were starting to crowd the streets as the sun started to make it's full appearence in the sky. When it came at her, beaming through the window, she squinted. The sun seemed so foreign to her after spending so much time in a cage in a dark cement and steel room.

"So, girl, whatcha need?" Abel asked, walking around to greet her. "I'm Abel, you can just call me Abe. All the snotty young folk around here do," he said, looking specifically at the girl at the register. She just smiled, shaking her head. It was obivously a joke between them. Lorraine smiled.

"Well, if it's not too much to ask, a shower would be wonderful..."

* * *

By the time Remy made it back to Abel's shop, Lorraine had taken a shower and grabbed a fresh change of clothes; denim shorts, a black halter top, and black high heels. Abel had insisted. When Remy walked back into the store, all he could do for a minute was stare. She blushed.

"Remy, stop staring at me," she muttered, looking to the floor. He grinned.

"Pourquoi?"

"You're making me blush."

"As a modest woman should. How much do I owe you, Abel?" Remy asked, getting a card out of his pocket and a pen from the counter. Abel waved a hand.

"Not a cent. Girl's too sweet to charge for," Abel said, winking at Lorraine. Her blush deepened and Remy smiled. At least she had managed to warm up to Abel. With any luck, he mused, his other connections would take a liking to her, too. Though one for sure was _definitely _not going to like her. But that would be dealt with when the time came.

"Y'all ready to go, chere?"

"What?" she said. "You got a car outside and a jet waitin' to take us to New Orleans a couple miles north of here?"

"Oui, exactement, actually."

"Oh. Okay then."


	4. Chapter 4

_**So Close**_

{1.3}

Lorraine, over the past two months, had managed to make several theories about life.

But Lorraine, over the past two hours, had managed to make _thousands _about Remy.

"Are you in the Mafia or something?" she asked as boarded the plane. When the car picked them up, her jaw had dropped. A Ferarri, by the looks of it, custom made. For a man who said he owed money, he had enough of it to flaunt. Remy drove like he was in an F1 race, and almost made her puke. By the time they got to the airport, Lorraine had almost fainted. A private jet, sleek and conservative with hint of flash. It suited Remy so well she had wondered if it was built especially for him. She wouldn't have been surprised if it had.

"Non, but you're gettin' warmer," Remy mused, pushing delicately on her shoulders, silently asking her to take a seat. When his fingertips grazed over her bare shoulders, she tried not to shiver, but failed. She could almost hear Remy smirk.

"Are you _involved _with the Mafia?" she tried, buckling her seat belt. The gesture made Remy smile. She couldn't die, and she knew this, but she still went through all the safety measurements. Then again, if there was anything that Remy had learned about Lorraine, it was that she was slightly paranoid when it came to being safe. So, if his girl wanted to buckle, he wasn't going to argue with her. He smirked at her question.

"You could say that," he said slyly. "Why are y'all so worried, anyway, chere?"

"Just wondering how a man who just got out of mutant prison can get all this in a matter of hours," she admitted. A flight attendant handed him clothes, a dark red satin dress shirt, black slacks, and an undershirt. He nodded in thanks to the assisstant, then turned to her.

"Connections," he said simply, stripping off his shirt and putting the clean one on without embarrassment of changing right in front of her. She blushed, cheeks a rosy shade of crimson, and turned to look out of the window. Her shyness made him chuckled. "What, chere, am I that ugly?"

"Wha-? Oh! No!" she blurted quickly, then covered her eyes when his pants dropped, now the color of a ripe cherry all over. He laughed.

"I'm only teasin', chere."

"Next time, at least tell me when you're going to drop your drawers."

"You plannin' a next time?" Remy tormented her, watching with a sly smile as she uncovered her hands to glare.

"Remy Etienne-"

"Don't tell me y'all aren't thinkin' 'bout it now," he laughed, pants now on, as he tugged on the dress shirt, rolled the sleeves. The shirt made his eyes glow like nuclear waste when depicted in cartoons. She fought off a smile, and then turned stubbornly to look out of the window, crossing her arms as she shivered, damning the air-conditioning on the plane. Remy frowned.

"Louise, get her a shirt of mine, will you?" he instructed. The woman nodded, opening a drawer and drawing out a forest green satin dress shirt. Lorraine took it without complaints, slipping into it and then re-crossing her arms.

"What, pas merci?" Remy teased. She looked at him, alarmed. She'd been zoning out again, it was easy to tell.

"Sorry. Thank you," she said, shaking her head, closing her eyes as she did so. "Sorry, Remy. I'm just so... tired. It's weird, for me."

"Probably the DNA," Remy said. "You should sleep."

"I don't know how," she admitted, laughing slightly. "I black out. I don't sleep."

"They're similar," Remy told her, taking the seat next to her. "Black outs come at random, sleep is more... predictable. Your eyes get heavy, your heart slows. It's actually very nice-"

Remy smiled when he felt her her on his shoulder. She was out like a light before they even took off.


	5. Chapter 5

_**So Close**_

{1.4}

New Orleans was hotter than either one of them remembered. Lorraine could almost feel her ivory skin burning as they stepped out of the jet. A simple black taxi car waited for them, and Remy gently guided her into the car, his hand on the small of her back. It made her happy and nervous at the same time: happy because it was Remy, nervous because he seemed to be touching her a lot since they got out of the prison. Remy gently pushed her into the backseat of the car, then followed suite. She kept his shirt on, trying to tell herself that she was dizzy from the airplane and not his amazing scent. She'd slept until they landed, which only disproved her theory more, but she was stubborn if she was anything when it came to her theories, so she kept with being sdizzy from air travel. She slipped off her shoes without using her hands and tucked her feet under her, leaning against the door and resting her head against the window. She crossed her arms against the chill of the air-conditioning and stared out the window as she waited for the car to start.

"What's the matter, chere?" Remy asked, a little put off by her actions. He'd been hoping to at least hold her during the car ride, but she seemed so nervous, like she needed space. He frowned.

"Just sleepy," she said, even though she was relatively awake. She just felt like staring out the window at the moment. Cuddling with Remy didn't sound like a bad thing, but it didn't sound appealing enough to make her crawl over to him. It was funny, she mused. She'd always been secretly desperate to cuddle with him when there were bars between them, but now, when he was barely a foot away, she wanted her space, to let her thoughts drift. It almost made her feel sick, like a brick had been suddenly dumped into her stomach. She tried to fight it off by pressing her cross arms against her stomach. Why was she having such a hard time dealing with her feelings with him? It wasn't like they were a secret, really. They'd never said that they loved each other, not once, but somehow she knew that they didn't have to to know what they felt for each other. Her frown matched Remy's as the car started. Why did she feel so against them touching now? She was frustrated with herself now, angry with herself for acting so oddly. It hardly seemed fair to put Remy through this when she knew he'd never do anything she didn't want to do. But then again, maybe it was just that. Maybe she didn't want to cuddle? After all, her previous and only relationship before Remy had ended in what would have been a death sentence if it wasn't for Remy and the tricks up his sleeves.

"You want me to come over there?" she asked suddenly as the car pulled out of the airport. Remy looked at her, but her eyes were still focussed out of the windows. He frowned. Why was she so out of it? Was it something he'd done?

"Oui," he admitted quietly. She shifted in her seat, and pushed herself towards Remy. He brought her to him, wrapping an arm around her as she sat in his lap. She couldn't help the guilt that suddenly weighed ten times more. She'd only ever sat in one other man's lap, and that had been Johny's. Remy wrapped both arms around her middle and she leaned back into him, putting her legs off to the side and once again fixing her eyes on the outside world. She crossed her arms over Remy's holding his hands in hers. "Ca va?" he asked, speaking into her hair as his breath hit the back of her neck. She shivered, nodding.

"I'm fine. just sleepy, like I said before," she insisted, even though she knew the last thing her body wanted to do at that point was sleep. He entertained himself by kissing her neck; it wasn't anything serious, just feather kisses here and there. Oddly enough, it calmed her down from her rapid thoughts of confusion regarding her feelings for Remy. Basically, it all boiled down to the same thing.

Her last love had ended with death, and even with this new DNA, why wouldn't this one?


	6. Chapter 6

_**So Close**_

{1.5}

She'd managed to fall asleep, somehow, but her dreams were less than pleasant. She'd had more than one, but neither one made sense. The first dream had simply been about Logan, and his promise. It had been like a movie, going through random conversations they'd had quickly and then slowing down during the important ones. The dream also made her extremely hungry, considering that Logan had always given her extra food. She stayed awake for an hour after that, wondering where Logan was and what he was doing. She hoped that he was at least away from the island, and that he was happy. She didn't know the guy well, but she knew him well enough to know that he needed happiness more than anyone else she knew.

The second dream had been about Johny, and, like the dream before, it was a recap of her life with him. The first scene was the first time she met him. She'd been walking on her street, just after a huge thunderstorm. It had been late, she'd snuck out. She had walked to the neighborhood lake and hung out there. She'd been thinking about her future, drinking a beer she'd stolen from her father's stash in the basement. Now that she looked back on that moment, it seemed so ironic. She'd wanted to be a genetic engineer. Now, after what she'd seen, she wanted to be anything but. Johny had stumbled out of the trees behind her. He'd been shirtless, after all, it had been summer. She hadn't known why he'd been there, but she'd just sat on the dock and looked at him. They had stared at each other for a few seconds before she turned back towards the lake. He had taken a seat next to her, his feet large compared to hers in the greenish but clear water. The first time they'd met, they hadn't spoken a word, only stared at the stars. He'd stolen a few sips of her beer when she set it down, but she hadn't really minded. When he'd gotten up to leave, he'd brushed his lips against hers, a simple kiss, and left. No words, no guarantees. His lips had made her body hum and catch on fire and tingle in the weirdest places like behind her knees and her temples and the backs of her arms. The next day, she had come around again just to see if it had been a dream. But he had stepped out from the same place, this time wearing a shirt.

"I'm John," he had said.

"Lorraine," she had been her reply. He had held her hand as they sat on the same dock as they had before, and somehow, from the beginning, Lorraine had known that Johny was going to be her first real love.

From there, the dream went a bit faster. It took her to a younger version of herself, cheering at his hockey games; to his car, where they used to sing along with Aerosmith; to his house, where they used to make fun of the local news anchors; to her house, where they usually got tipsy, made out, and played with her dog; to the parks they went running at; to the movie theater they went to; to the times when he picked her up from school and girls gave her jealous looks; to where he took her out with his hockey team just to show her off, even though she told him she wasn't that pretty, but he always argued that she was the hottest and prettiest girl in the room, even when she wasn't; to the lake again where they shared their first time together; to the hospital where they cried together; to her father kicking her out; to them on the road together; to his job at the auto shop; to the apartment she'd shared with him; and finally to the hospital where he died.

"Don't leave me," she had begged, gripping his hand. His skin had been so pale against hers.

"I love you," he had told her, kissing her one last time even though it freaked the nurse's into hysteria.

Then he had died.

Lorraine woke with a start, her eyes watery and her face wet. She pushed herself up violently, untangling herself from damp sheets and moist skin, running to the bathroom. She ended up throwing up, not that she had much in her stomach. She didn't know where she was, and the bathroom lighting was blinding. She freaked out.

Had Stryker found her?

She gripped the sink, her knuckles turning white, as she stared at her reflection. She was paler than she remembered, but a little sunburn brightened her complexion. Her eyes were still deep forest green, and her hair was longer than she usually liked. She looked like a derange zombie, her heart thumping in her chest erratically, and she still wore the clothes she had bought from Abel. Mustering up all her courage, she toed the door open to see if Stryker had indeed captured her. She almost screamed at the top of her lungs when Remy was an inch away from the door.

"Remy!" she gapsed, hands flying to her heart. "Jesus. You scared me."

"Desole," he said. His brow furrowed. "Ca va?" he asked sleepily. She couldn't help but find it cute (and, admittedly, sexy) that he spoke French when he was upset or tired.

"Oui," she replied, getting used to French.

"Tu es droite?"

"I'm fine," she insisted. "Go back to bed. Have I really been out this long?"

"It's the middle of the night. It was noon when we arrived here," Remy explained. "Come to bed with me. I'm not goin' without you, chere."

She just nodded, walking like she was on air through the muggy room, her hair flowing behind her. He gave a small smile, to him or to her he didn't know, as they both crawled back in bed. He instantly reached for her, wanting to hold her like he had only a few minutes ago, even though it was easily above eighty degrees in the room. His hands searched, but when they came to her, she pushed them away slightly before holding them with her own as she lied on her stomach, trying to calm down. He knew she'd been freaked out, that she'd been having bad dreams. She still mumbled in her sleep; 'Johny', 'Logan', and 'no, don't go' all seemed popular tonight. He frowned.

She never said his name in her sleep.


	7. Chapter 7

_**So Close**_

{1.6}

When she woke up that morning, she was alone. Fresh clothes lied for her on what had been Remy's side of the bed; a green cotton sleeveless mini-dress and a black camisole replaced her black halter top, black skinny jeans replaced her shorts, and a simple long black hem necklace with green beads replaced the fact that she wore no jewelry at all other than the silver chain she kept around her neck. She had managed to swipe it when she and Remy broke out of Stryker's island. Johny had given it to her on his death bed: it had been his class ring on a silver chain. The stone in it was green topaz, his and her birthstone. She'd kept it in her pocket since she managed to take it back.

She went into the bathroom, necklace in hand, seeing no sign of Remy at all. She took the clothes with her, too, marveled at them. She didn't know how he managed to get clothes for her so quickly. She checked the sizes. Just right. The fact made her smile. Even Johny had never been able to get the right size on the first try, or manage to come up with a decent outfit. She shook her head and turned on the shower, debating whether she should wear the necklace as she lathered her hair with the Pantene shampoo that had miraculously been placed in the shower.

Showers, while nice, brought back memories she liked to keep at bay. They're tenth time had been in her shower, a few hours after their ninth time. They knew they had HIV by then, but it had never really stopped him. And what was she to do about it? She still loved him. She conditioned her hair quickly and looked around for soap. Not finding any, she quickly popped out of the shower and dug around, finally finding a bar of mango scented soap that one of Remy's many women of his past had probably left around. She frowned at the idea as she washed, and the got angry at herself. She loved Remy, undoubtedly, but for some reason, she felt like she had no right to be angry that Remy had had lots of women before. It wasn't something she should have been upset about, but for some reason, she was. She shook the thought off and shut off the shower, trying with the curtain closed, blocking her from view. She then slipped on the clothes. They fit perfectly, she mused. Remy could have been a designer in another life. She found a little make up under one of the two sinks. She put on some mascara, blush and a little foundation to cover the dark tinge under her eyes.

She spent fifteen minutes just staring at the necklace in her hand before she put it on. She wore Remy's around her wrist, wrapped several times around the slender bone and small amount of flesh covering.

She hoped he didn't ask where she got hers from.

* * *

"Bonjour, Lorraine," he said once she stepped into the kitchen. The house she was in was huge, and she had one of the maids (yes, Remy had maids) to lead her to him. He nodded to the maid, who blushed and quickly left the room, waving smally at Lorraine as she did. Lorraine raised her eyebrows as she watched the girl scurry down the hall.

"Some one's got it bad for you," she mused, walking over to the coffee pot. The kitchen was huge, and everything was spotless and metallic. She felt like she was dirtying the place by just pouring herself of coffee.

"Toi?" he said hopefully, like he didn't know how she felt. Truth was, unknown to her, he didn't know how she felt. She'd been acting so distant. He paused, looking at her, doing a once over as she replied.

"Well, me and that other girl. Poor thing," she said. "What?"

"Where'd you get that necklace?" he asked. She didn't answer, and sat down at the table, sipped her coffee. "Answer me."

Dieu, where did his voice get so much edge, he wondered? She probably just found it. Right. Stole it or something. He'd told her how to steal things without being caught when they were in prison-

"It was mine. Stryker took it away. I took it back," she answered simply. Remy nodded. He knew what that meant.

It meant: Johny gave it to me before he died. Try to take it and I will not even hesitate in killing you.

"Je vois," he said simply.

He tried to ignore how his heart clenched.


	8. Chapter 8

_**So Close**_

{1.7}

"Where are we going?" Lorraine asked, holding Remy's hand but staying on her own side of the car. Remy grinned.

"To see some amis of mine. They'll love y'all. Don't worry, chere," he assured. Lorraine squeezed his hand, however, showing her nevousness. He frowned. "Why are you so... out there, lately?" he asked.

"Dunno," she replied quietly. "Guess I'm just adjusting to life right now, considering I've been in prison for awhile." Remy looked at her. That had been her excuse for a lot of things, and she was starting to look a bit tired, maybe even sick. She was always cold, even when they slept in bed with him holding her in the Louisiana heat. Right now, she was wearing a burgundy zip up hooded sweatshirt over the black tank top and denim skirt she was wearing. The metal banles around her wrist, the heels she wore, and the messy bun she had put her hair into managed to make the outfit look chic, as Remy was told by a maid today before they went out. But she still looked so young, even if she looked worn down. So young, Remy noted, as he looked at her legs and face. She was barely twenty, as far as he knew. He need to ask her when her birthday was. He was snapped out of his thoughts when she smiled at him. Through her sudden need for space and her distant attitude and her obsessive loss of the first man she loved, her smile got him every time. She smiled, trying to be reassuring. "Don't worry about it, Rems. A little sleep and a little time and I'll be fine."

He hoped so.

The car ride was silent the rest of the time. It took ten minutes to get to wherever they were going, and Lorraine's stomach was churning. She'd never felt this nervous since her first actual date with Johny. She doubted that Remy's friends would like her at all; she wasn't Southern, she wasn't strong, and she wasn't Remy's usually type of woman, as far as she could tell. She bit her lip when the driver opened the door and let her out. She compensated running away and never coming back, but she owed Remy, didn't she? He'd saved her life, though you wouldn't have realized it by the way she was feeling. Her stomach was still painful, and it felt like she was just in a constant process of renewal. Either way, she had no right to complain. She was alive, God damnit, and it was because of Remy. She had food to eat and a place to sleep and someone to who cared about her more than they did anyone else in the whole world. And it was all thanks to Remy.

Her little pep talk managed to shove her fears aside as Remy guided her into what looked like a high class bar, his hand on the small of her back. She laughed silently as they entered. Smoke blurred her eyes for a second, made her give a few small coughs. She'd have to stick with water. This was no place for a nineteen year old, she mused. This was a place for men who smoked cigarettes and listened to jazz and drank hard liquor like it was soda pop, a place for a man like Remy and a woman like the ones that were already there. They all wore skin-bearing outfits, most of them black, and they were all at least old enough to drink. Most of them looked at Remy and then to her with glares of disdain. Remy slid an arm around her waist, calming her slightly as he lead her to an open love seat. He lit up a cigarette on his way there; she'd forgotten that he smoked, mainly because he had never been able to in prison.

She sank into the leather loveseat, sleeves drawn over her hands and clutched in her fists, an obvious sign that she was nervous, Remy knew.

"What can I get for ya, LeBeau?" the bartender asked. The minute Remy took his eyes off Lorraine, the people around her narrowed their eyes. She swallowed nervously.

This would be fun.


	9. Chapter 9

_**So Close**_

{1.8}

"Donc," Remy said, slipping his arm around her shoulders as he took a sip of his drink. "Amis, this is Lorraine."

The people around her put their eyes on her, and she swallowed nervously. "Hi," she said, smiling. It took all of her confidence to, but she had to be strong for Remy. Once she smiled, the people stopped narrowing their eyes at her and smiled back, making her almost blink in confusion.

"Bonjour," a deep male voice said. "Je m'appelle Georges."

"Bonjour," she replied, trying to be as polite as she possibly could. Who cared if she was being a suck up at this point? Georges laughed.

"She speaks French?!" his deep voice boomed with amusement and somehow, pride. "I can guess who taught her!" he said, smirking. It seemed innocent enough at first, but once Lorraine caught on to the tone of his voice and how he smirked, her face lit up in a blush so bright that it could power the entirety New York City for a year. Her reaction made everyone laugh, including Remy. He kissed her cheek before grinning back at his friends.

"Non, non," he answered honestly. "At least not yet. And when I do, 'bonjour' is not what I'll be teachin' her," he said with a grin like the cat from _Alice in Wonderland_. Her face went from pink to deep red, almost matching her hoodie, making Remy's laugh return and the girls giggle.

Maybe Remy's friends weren't so bad after all, even if they were perverted.


	10. Chapter 10

_**So Close**_

{1.9}

Remy guided her from the bar late at night (or early in the morning, whichever way you wanted to see it). She was giggly and swayed as she walked, proving that he had let her have one too many mojitos. Her sweatshirt had long been abandoned, the alcohol heating up the color to her face and her core temperature. She had wrestled Georges when he'd taken a five dollar bill from her hand, and the result was that her hair was wild and loose in dark blond waves down her back and framing her face. Her eyes were lit up like Christmas decor, something he'd only seen when she was remembering something good about her life before all the merde hit the fan. She was actually happy, giddy, even, and that was enough to put a smile on his face.

Then again, that wasn't saying much. Usually just being with her when she didn't act drained or tired or spaceous put a smile on his face.

"Wow," she breathed, stumbling slightly on her high heels as she looked up at the Louisiana night sky. "It's amazing."

"It gets hotter 'n' hell in th' ete, chere, but we got stars," Remy mused, kissing her cheek as she leaned against him, shoulder fitting perfectly under his arm even if the bony joint dug into his rib. Somehow the slight discomfort it caused when she leaned into him too much made him happier, because it meant that she was real and that he wouldn't wake up in the cells of Strkyer's Three Mile Island alone. Her head found the crook of his neck and he grinned, taking a deep drag of his cigarette. She had seemed a bit displeased about his habit at first, but had loosened up about it as the night had progressed.

"Sure do," she said, still looking up as she took her head away from the comfortable position it had rested in to gaze endearingly at the stars. The result was a good view of her long ivory neck. Remy looked away and tried to think about other things. The last thing she needed on the one night she seemed to be happy was him ruining it by trying to bang her.

Dieu, he thought, what a mess.

"You know you can kiss me if you want," she suddenly declared. Remy almost dropped his hold on her, making her go towards the ground. He caught her, and let his cigarette fall to the ground. He stubbed it unconsciously with his foot.

"Y-you're sure? I don't want to pressure y'all, chere," he said carefully. It was true, he didn't want to rush her and scare her away, but at the same time, he also really, really didn't want her to change her mind.

"Oui," she replied, French a bit slurred from the sugary mint cocktails. He stared at her for a moment, just waiting for her to change her mind. For days she'd been distant, like her mind was back with Johny while her body remained with him. He didn't want to compete with that, as much as he hated to think of it that way. He didn't want to have to fight for her love anymore, especially not with someone deceased. Green met crimson and he felt himself sweat from tension, a very rare thing for Remy Etienne LeBeau to do. He didn't want her to regret it in the morning (or afternoon, it really depended on when she woke up...), and think of Johny like she'd betrayed her former love. He wanted her to want this with no regrets.

The very last thing he needed and wanted at that point was to be rejected, especially when his 'opponent' was six feet under a couple hundred miles away.

"Really sure?" he asked hesitantly. She sighed, sugary breath on his lips. He hadn't realized how close they'd gotten.

"Really sure," she replied before she slammed her lips on his.


	11. Chapter 11

_**So Close**_

{1.10}

Something felt... different, she noted. It was warmer than usual, and stickier than usual, and the air smelled like nicotine and sweat and her perfume and Remy and s-Oh sweet Jesus, please tell her God she did not go that far last night.

She peaked her eyes open. They felt heavy, and sleep sounded heavenly at the moment. Plus she was so very comfortable. She considered just staying there for a minute and drifting back to sleep and just forgetting about her spazz attack until later in the morning (afternoon?). After all, where she was was warm, it smelled amazing, and her body was still humming.

Which meant that they either really went at it or they'd gone at it multiple times and stopped not too long ago. She groaned at the thought and clenched her eyes shut, biting her lip as she turned in Remy's grip. Yep, she was sore and completely naked. She sighed, back now facing Remy, as she tried to think of the reason why her nakedness didn't bother her as much as it should. Probably because it was Remy. She'd had sex with Remy, oh Lord, oh _Lord_, she had had sex with Remy LeBeau.

She bit her lip a bit harder and ran a hand through her hair. Remy grabbed her hand and held it in his, entertaining himself by planting little kisses along her neck as he looked at the clock. Eleven in the morning; an early riser considering what they did (and how many times they did it), last night (this morning). He smirked at the very thought.

"Bon matin," he murmured into her neck, nuzzling into her hair. The room smelled like sex, and the fact made his male ego swell with pride. She laughed, body shaking slightly.

"Morning," she replied in a groan, tugging more covers around her. Sleep sounded so good. Maybe it was because she was constantly fighting off her sickness(es)-

Oh shit. The HIV.

"SHIT!" she swore, jumping from bed before Remy had time to lock his arms around her more securely and hold her next to him. He frowned as she started to pace (naked, mind you). He knew she was going to regret this. Why did he even give in? Now she was going to talk about Johny and how she shouldn't have had sex now for some lame reason and how she was so so desole.

Remy's heart broke a little at the thought.

"I-I shouldn't have slept with you last night," she suddenly announced, still naked as can be. He raised his eyebrows. Anger made him cocky.

"You slept with me more than once last night, chere."

"I- shut up!" she suddenly hissed, running her hands through her hair as she paced again. Remy, however angry, decided to enjoy the view while she was oblivious to her lack of clothing. "My God, Remy," she moaned, and he couldn't help and think that that had sounded so much better last night then it did now. "God, I screwed up."

"You wanted to," he suddenly defended, then winced when she looked at him, blank. Lorraine's blank stare was worse than any glare she could ever come up with.

"I know I did, thanks for putting that in," she said. "Just- God! What was I thinking?"

"Excuse-moi?" Remy demanded.

"It's not you!" she suddenly yelped, fear and confusion and hurt written across both their faces. "Good Lord, Rems, it's not you!"

"Then what the hell did you mean with 'what was I thinkin''?" he demanded. It sure as hell sounded like it was about him. He was sitting up in bed now, bare torso showing and his hair a wild mess from sex and sleep. She remembered, with a sudden and violent desire to thread her hands in his hair, what she was talking about and continued. It was hard to concentrate with Remy completely naked under the sheets only a few feet away.

"The HIV, Remy," she said. "I gave it to you now and now you'll have to live with it and-"

"Chere-"

"Oh my God you'll die in ten years. Shit shit shit, Remy, I basically just committed murder-"

"CHERE," he stated loudly, drawing her out of her rant. He took a deep breath before continuing. "I've had the HIV for awhile, or did you forget about the needle in the cell? Besides, I'll live through it, just like you are. Pas probleme, chere."

"Are you sure?" she demanded, wishing desperately that he was right.

"Even if I'm not right about the needle, the multiple rounds of sex-"

"I get it, Rems," she said, sighing. He grinned at her, staring at her totally naked form which she had still failed to realize. "Why are you- Oh."

"Oui," he said, grinning like a cat who got the cream. She shook her head and went into the bathroom. "Where you goin', chere?"

"To take a shower."

"Not without me, you're not."


	12. Chapter 12

_**So Close**_

{1.11}

Breakfast that morning passed by quickly and surprisingly, it was the most un-awkward breakfast they had shared together since they arrived a week before. Lorraine had yogurt with fruit, toast, and orange juice. Remy had black coffee and a cigarette. The fact had made Lorraine roll her eyes, but she kept her mouth shut. Remy was stubborn about his coffee, and while the cigarettes really did bother her, they only bothered her because they caused cancer and death. Considering both she and Remy were now basically indestructible, they wouldn't really have to deal with the effects of smoking (she said they because of second-hand smoke), and so, she gave up on the argument going on in her head that told her to yank the cigarette away from Remy and flush the rest down the toilet.

She was reading one of the many books she'd found in Remy's library (even though the fact that it was probably stolen made her feel a little guilty for reading it), and in a bathrobe one of the maid's had given to her after the poor girl, at the young age of twelve, walked in on them in the shower. Thankfully, she and Remy hadn't been doing anything, but nonetheless, the idea of a man and a woman (girl?) in a shower together, naked, with the water running, did not give the girl a good situation to see (not that it would be good either way...).

"Y'all should get dressed," Remy said, draining his coffee and then taking one last long drag from his cigarette. "We need to get you some clothes for work."

"Work? Shopping?" Lorraine asked, carrying her dishes to the sink. She set them on the counter and rolled up the silk sleeves, started running the water and pouring soap on to a sponge. Lorraine didn't know it, but she was giving the kitchen workers a heart attack.

"Miss..." one woman said as Lorraine started to scrub at her toast plate, attempting to get the jelly off.

"Yes, Ma'am?" she replied, scrubbing and then squinting to see if she got it off. Remy shook his head, chuckling.

"Please don't clean, miss, that's what we're here for-"

"Are you complaining about someone giving you a break, ma'am?"

"No, miss I-!" the maid squeaked. It was funny how intimidating Lorraine could be to his household employees when she simply ignored the natural order of things, Remy mused. Lorraine looked up at her, setting the clean plate in the dish drainer and grabbing her yogurt bowl.

"Do me a favor, ma'am, and go sit down, take a smoke if you do, have a gin and tonic. For God's sake woman, breathe!" Lorraine said worriedly when the woman just stared at her, mouth agape, like she just announced the apocolypse. Lorraine dropped what she was doing and guided the woman to a chair at the table, then politely asked a maid who just came in to fan the woman, before returning to finish her dishes. The woman looked at Remy, mouth still agape, and gave a shot at forming coherent sentences.

"I-she-but-please-Monsieur-je ne comprend pas-" she blubbered. Remy grinned.

"She's nicer than all the other ones," he said in French so that Lorraine wouldn't hear. All the other woman he ever had had treated the maids... well, less than nice. Lorraine seemed like an alien to them.

"There, all done," Lorraine said brightly, but somewhat tiredly. Then she turned to Remy, hands on her hips. "So, what about shopping and work? If it's something I can avoid I'd love to stick around and help out, you know, vacuum or cook or something," she said sheepishly, grinning slightly. "I'm used to keeping my apartment clean with no help whatsoever, so this whole 'living here but not keeping things clean' is kind of weird. I'll even do some laundry-"

_Kathunk!_

The woman had fainted.

* * *

"Really, I don't see what the big deal is," Lorraine said as they weaved through the crowded streets of the French Quarter. "All I offered to do was help."

"Madame Louise is a little dramatic," he admitted, hand entwined with hers. "But, you have to understand, you doin' housework means less work for them, and that means no pay."

"Oh," Lorraine realized. "Wow. Oops."

"It's fine, chere. Louise will get over it by the time they start on dinner," Remy said, waving his hand nonchalantly at the thought, dismissing it.

"If you say so. So, what are we hear for anyways?" she asked, looking up at a sign that read _Geneve's _as they walked into the store. He grinned.

"We're buyin' you clothes for work. As much as I like the way you are now, ma chere, the work place calls for a bit more class what it comes to clothin'," he teased, tugging on her denim shorts. "After all, you're gonna be waitressin' and all that."

"And what do you do, exactly?" she asked as he waved at the store owner, who rushed over immediately. Remy sure had his contacts.

"I deal. You pass the drinks. That way I can keep an eye on you," Remy said somewhat possessively. The tone made her laugh.

"If you say so. But do I have to wear heels?"

"Oui. You'll look good in them."

"Looking good is not what I'm worried about. The pain is what I'm worried about. They better not be any spiky stripper shoes."

"Like I said, class, ma chere," Remy laughed, and shoved the thought of Lorraine in stripper heels and attire violently from his head.


	13. Chapter 13

_**So Close**_

{1.12}

Working at Remy's small casino was very different from working at Duke's diners what seemed like years ago. True, she'd worn heels at Duke's, but nothing like the ones she wore now. After all, her heels had been twenty-dollars from a local boutique sale. The shoes she wore now were worth three hundred dollars.

_Three HUNDRED dollars._

She wasn't even going to openly say the price of the dress she wore, _let alone _the jewelry.

Remy insisted that she keep her hair down, and after a small argument, he won.

She tugged slightly at the bottom of the silk mini dress he'd bought her and blushed when he smirked at her. She grabbed the orders from the counter and thanked the bar tender before walking over to her table, a table full of twenty-year-or-so-old men smoking cigarettes.

"Thanks, sugar," one of them said, winking at her. She smiled politely and set the other drinks on the table.

"There anything else I can get for you?" she asked, not bothering to even try to make up a New Orleans' accent. One of them smirked.

"Oh honey, there's plenty you could _do _for me-"

"You want to try that again, ami?" Remy said, at her side faster than lightening, cracking his knuckles and eyes red like bloody murder. The men shut up, scared shit-less. Remy smirked after they stayed quiet for a minute. "Thought so. Hit on ma fille again, and I'm kickin' your asses out. Comprend?"

"Remy," Lorraine whispered as he practically dragged her away from the table, embarrassed. "You didn't need to. I was about to tell them that my boyfriend was over dealing cards."

"Wouldn't have stopped me," Remy said simplistically, sitting her in a chair at his table. "You're sittin' with me."

"I have a job to do," she argued weakly. Sitting down felt like heaven. Her feet were killing her.

"Well now, your job is different. Your job is to sit next to me and look pretty while I do my job," Remy ordered.

He left no room for arguments.


	14. Chapter 14

_**So Close**_

{1.13}

And so life went on for Remy and Lorraine. Wake up, breakfast, make the maids go into cardiac arrest, stay in and read or go out and shop or hit the tourist attractions, come home, eat lunch/dinner, shower (and usually have sex whilst doing so), get ready for work, go to work, wait tables until Remy gets possessive, sit at dealing table with Remy watching her like a hawk, go home, have sex, sleep. It was a good life, and great sex.

Not that she had much to compare to, but still, it was the thought that counted, right?

That night she'd been waiting tables still, sweet talking with the regulars like she used when she worked at Duke's but always making sure to avoid flirting. The last thing she wanted, though it did make her feel loved when it happened, was Remy kicking some poor guy's ass out the door for flirting with his girl. Before she started working, she had never pegged Remy as the incredibly possessive type. Johny had been possessive, but she pictured Remy as a more laid-back kind of guy. But after thirteen ass-kickings on the job, she had to come to face the fact that the men she attracted were possessive, and that she was just going to have to take them beating other guys up as their way of showing affection publicly when they didn't have their hands on her.

The thought made her sigh, but that was just how her men operated.

"What can I get you, Harvy?" she asked, smiling at one of her favorite regulars. He was in his forties, and claimed to only come to Remy's to see her and drink Jack Daniel's at a fair price.

"The usual, Lorraine," he said, sighing and looking at his wedding ring as she started pouring him a glass of liquor. "You think she'd be mad at me if I tried to see someone else?"

Lorraine knew that Harvy was talking about his wife, who had died in a car accident two years before. She smiled, because not too long ago she had been asking herself the same question, and gave Harvy a soothing hand on his shoulder as she put his drink in front of him.

"Not at all," she said. He knew her story, knew that she understood. "She wants you to be happy, and if that means moving on and seeing someone else, I think she's fine with that."

"Aw thanks darlin'. You know how hard her death was on me," Harvy crooned. She smiled sadly and patted his back once more.

"I know, honey, I kow. Just holler if you need anything else," she said kindly as she nodded at the table beckoning her over, strutting across the room and stopping in front of the table. "What can I do for you? And before you go and make any perverted comments, boys, let me just warn you that my man is the owner."

"Owner shmowner," one guy waved his hand, obviously unimpressed. "Wouldn't you want to be with a real man like me, sugar, rather than some-"

"Some what?" she interrupted. "Some extremely well-paid. rugged, casino owning man who's going to kick your white-trash ass out of here in roughly twenty seconds?" she said, hands on her hips as she glared him down. The man shut up, obviously having nothing else to say. "That's what I thought. Now," she said, straightening herself and smiling at the group of men, "what would you gentlemen, plus one conceited asshole, like to drink?"

"Get up," Remy order gruffly, glaring at the man she'd just whipped into shape the instant he appeared at her side. The man stuttered, but it didn't stop Remy from literally throwing him out the door before he got back to his dealing table. Lorraine turned to the rest of the men at the table after she watched in both amusement and adoration. They stared at her, jaws slack.

Oh yeah, her man kicked ass.


	15. Chapter 15

**_So Close_**

{1.14}

She didn't feel too great that night, so she decided to stay home and ready, maybe soak in the tub. The maids made her grilled cheese for dinner, like she asked, even though they had begged her to eat something more difficult to make, insisted on spoiling her. She wouldn't have it, and to prove her point, she washed her dishes, too. She soaked in the tub and read an entire book of French Literature. When that was done, she found nothing else to do, so she got dressed and headed over to the casino. Harvy probably wanted to talk to her a little bit anyway.

Clad in jeans, heels, and a simple top, she sauntered down the street. She got a few cat calls as she passed bars on the street that made her laugh. When she rounded the corner, she was met with a sight.

Remy and Jimmy, going at it to what looked like the death. On instinct, she kicked off her heels and then dove into the fight, a blur to the average human eye. I shoved Jimmy away from Remy violently, her eyes wide and the bun she had put her hair in now messy and disheveled. She stood in front of Remy, in fighting stance (not that she really knew how to fight), and got ready for Jimmy to come at her.

Jimmy got up; he'd falled on to a few jagged four-by-fours. He cracked his neck, his wounds healing, before his eyes mirrored her own. Remy just stared at the back of her neck, resisting to shake his head.

Only _Lorraine_, only his _Lorraine_, would get involved in his fight and defend him when everyone knew that he was the last person who needed protection in this small gathering of old friends, if you could even call them that.

"...Lorraine?" Jimmy muttered, squinting and still prepared to fight. She stood up straight bolted to her shoes, slipping them on before she raced back to her position in front of Remy, swallowing loudly.

"Jimmy," she replied, too nervous to crack a smile. He gaped, or at least however close a guy like Jimmy could get to gaping.

Well, this was a bit awkward.


End file.
